King and Crownless
by Zairalass
Summary: Aragorn and Theoden are very different people. In the midst of the battle at Helm's Deep, can they come to understand each other and get along?
1. Default Chapter

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters, ideas, or world of Lord of the Rings. All quotes in quotation marks are from Peter Jackson and company. I borrow them from Mr. Tolkien and New Line Cinema with thanks, and hopefully return them unharmed.  
  
"And what would you have me do?" Theoden hissed at Aragorn. Look at my men - their courage hangs by a thread."  
  
Theoden was very aware of the ears that strained to hear his quiet comment. His men had heard their King's brave speech "Within these walls we will outlast them." They had also heard the doubt in the dwarf's reply.  
  
Now, as he strove to provide his men with some hope, some small measure to cling to in the dark hours ahead, Aragorn brashly pointed out the truth to all that listened.  
  
By morning, they would all be dead. The Uruk-hai would have no mercy on Rohan. In the end, not even the ancient walls and defences of Helm's Deep would protect them.  
  
Once, Theoden would have been confident that the battle could be won, even out-numbered as they were. Rohan had once had many friends, when Gondor was strong, before the dark times. Messengers and friends had travelled freely between the capitals. Aid would have been swift and sure.  
  
Now, the old alliances were broken. No help would come, not from Dwarves, not from Elves, and certainly not from Gondor. Rohan stood alone against the enemy.  
  
Still, Theoden would not have despaired. The Rohirrim had proved them selves in battle many times. He would have had hope that his people would survive to fight another day.  
  
But, his son was dead, lost to the enemy. Eomer, too, was gone, banished by his own hand. Theoden King stood alone with his people. If there was no hope for the future of Theoden's house, there could be no hope for Theoden, and no hope for the survival of Rohan.  
  
Too long had their King lingered in shadows. Too long had he allowed his eyes to be blinded to the fate of the Riddermark. His people had needed him, and he had been weak. Now, it was too late.  
  
Only one thing remained. "If this is to be our end, I would have them make such an end as to be worthy of remembrance." The people of Rohan would not fade quietly into history. They would fight until the last breath of the last child wailed out in despair. Men everywhere for all time would sing of the last defence of the Eorlingas. Theoden would ensure not one of his people were ashamed to enter the halls of their forefathers.  
  
Sometimes, the only thing a King could do was help his people face the truth - there could be no hope. **************************************************************************** **************  
  
"Then I shall die as one of them!" Aragorn's words echoed in his ears as he sat alone on the stairs, watching the Rohirrim prepare for war.  
  
It was the first time he had ever publicly aligned himself with the world of men. He had always been more elf-like, quick to scorn human ways. He smiled briefly - no wonder Legolas seemed so shocked.  
  
Legolas thought the battle hopeless. He did not understand what drove men to fight battles that could not be won. For elves that lived forever, the senseless deaths in war could never be understood. And Legolas was angry that his friends were in the midst of it.  
  
Aragorn looked down at his hands. There on his finger was the ring of Barad-hur - the symbol of both the weaknesses of his past, and the hope for his future. Aragorn had grown up in an atmosphere of subtle contempt for mankind. Although he had no doubt his foster father had loved him, he could still hear the oft-repeated comment of Lord Elrond "Men are weak." And for a long time, Aragorn had believed it.  
  
Yet, there was strength in the world of men, as he had privately acknowledged many times, with out understanding it. Aragorn briefly touched the black leather vambraces he wore on his forearms. Not too many days ago, he had privately pledged himself to the defence of men, to Boromir and to Gondor. "Our people", he had said. In return, Boromir had come to believe in Aragorn's strength, and entrusted him with the future. "My Brother, my Captain, my King." Aragorn could not betray his friend's oath.  
  
And years ago Aragorn had rode with Thengil King, Theoden's father. Although few now lived who remembered, under the name Thorongil Aragorn had pledged his service and his allegiance to Rohan. The Rohirrim had accepted his service, and for a time Aragorn had belonged to the world of men.  
  
Now it was time for him to publicly affirm those secret vows. Too long had he hid in the shadows, content to watch the fate of men. Too long had he allowed his personal fears to rule his actions. But it was not too late.  
  
There was still strength in men to overcome the enemy. There was still strength in his blood to resist the lure of evil. And maybe, there was hope.  
  
Aragorn lifted the white Evenstar, his hope, to his lips in a silent benediction. Sometimes, the best thing a King could do for his people was give them hope.  
  
Catching the glance of a young lad barely into his teen years, Aragorn called him over.  
  
"There is always hope." 


	2. Chapter 2

"Who am I, Gamling?"  
  
"You are our King, sire."  
  
"And do you trust your King?"  
  
"Your people, my lord, will follow you to whatever end."  
  
"To whatever end."  
  
Theoden stood still as his man dressed him in the armour of his forefathers. He thought of those who had gone before, who had bore these weapons with pride and victory. Eorl the Young, who was the first great King of the Riddermark. Brego, who had built the golden hall of Meduseld. And Helm Hammerhand, to whose defences the Eorlingas once again had fled.  
  
Where was the great might of the past? When had the strength of the Riddermark failed? When had the slow decay begun? How had his people lost their pride and descended to this - a few hundred souls huddling in a refuge built in the dim past, cowering in the face of their enemy.  
  
Had it begun when Kings no longer inspired respect, but only duty? When had their hearts grown cold to the free folk of Rohan and the fires that fuelled great deeds gone out? When Kings had distanced themselves through advisors and councillors, was that the beginning of the end?  
  
It was certain Theoden had no time to gain the hearts of his people. That had been his son's gift. Theodred had been beloved by all. In him the glory of the Riddermark could have been restored. But his son was dead. Theoden must be content with the cold fire of duty. As he led his people by it, so they would follow him, to whatever end.  
  
How would Theoden be remembered? As a weak fool who had let his mind be over-thrown, and had led his people to ruin and defeat? Was there still time for redemption?  
  
Gamling finished armouring his King. He stepped back and respectfully handed him his sword.  
  
Theoden stood ready, staring at the bright blade.  
  
"How did it come to this?"  
  
**************************************************************************** ************** In the armoury, Aragorn prepared for war. It was deserted now - he could hear the clatter above as the men joined the defences on the walls. Gimli and Legolas were already there. Aragorn had only to arm himself and join them.  
  
As he pulled on his chainmail vest, he smiled at the memory of the first time he had prepared in this way. His elf-brothers, Elohan and Elohir, had agreed to take him on Orc patrol. However, they had insisted he wear so much armour, he had been unable to mount his horse, and had needed to be boosted into the saddle. That night, he had 'accidentally' dumped the armour into a lake, much to the amusement of his brothers. But their lesson was well learned. Aragorn fought not in a heavy suit of armour, but with a simple chain-link vest as his protection.  
  
The green leather overvest brought back memories of his lonely years as a Ranger. During those journeys, there had been no one to ensure he was properly armoured, and no one to offer comfort when he was injured. He had learned self-reliance, and how to stand alone.  
  
Finally, he strapped on the dagger given to him by the Elf Lord, Celeborn. It had been given to him as the leader of the Fellowship, after Gandalf fell. Already Aragorn had used it in defence of the Ringbearer. Now, it would be used again in the defence of Rohan.  
  
Today he would have to use all the strategies he had learned from his brothers, and all the skills of a Ranger, to hold the defences against the enemy. Gandalf had trusted him to hold the walls until help came.  
  
And he was not alone. As he reached for his sword, he was surprised to find an elf hand there first. Legolas stood at his side, Aragorn's sword outstretched.  
  
"We have trusted you this far, and you have not led us astray. Forgive me, I was wrong to despair." I understand why you must fight this battle. It is your fate - your duty. I do not know what this night will bring, but I choose to follow you, as I have in the past. We have faced hopeless situations before. Together, we have a chance of surviving to see another day.  
  
Aragorn accepted his sword, and the responsibilities that came with it. He was grateful for Legolas' unwavering friendship. Others would follow because they had no choice. Legolas and Gimli followed because he had earned their respect and love. And if he was worthy of support from two such great warriors, perhaps he was worthy to lead other, lesser men. Together, they were strong. 


	3. Chapter 3

Aragorn stood with the elves on the Deeping wall, watching the advancing enemy army. He met Legolas' confident smile with a nod, thanking him wordlessly for his steadfast presence, and laughed as Gimli intended at his curmudgeon attitude.  
  
He proceeded along the wall, offering words of encouragement to the soldiers. They took courage from his steady presence, and in knowing he would fight beside them. His prowess, as well as Legolas', was well known, and if they came with a dwarf, well, war made strange allies. It might be said that the old alliance was truly re-born.  
  
Aragorn glanced up at the Theoden, standing apart and remote on the wall of the Keep. Aragorn could not understand him, his attitude, or the choices he made.  
  
The men of Rohan were strong, courageous people, intensely loyal to King and country. Yet Theoden chose to stand apart from them, and relay his orders through the sergeants who stood with him.  
  
Why did he not join his men below? Aragorn had learned from youth that the best way to direct a battle was from the front lines. How else could a leader lend his arm to those in need, and protect those in the fiercest part of the fight?  
  
It might be that Theoden commanded a better view of the battle, and thus felt he could strategize more effectively. But in a fight such as this, against overwhelming odds, the pattern was predictable. Archers, then ladders and gruesome hand to hand. Aragorn's strength and skill were better spent on the battlefield, as an extra sword and shield.  
  
Aragorn did not understand Theoden's decision about the women, either. He looked around the wall. There were children here, some as young as eleven or twelve. Yet capable, honourable women - shieldmaidens - were required to hide in the caverns and wait, not allowed to fight because of their sex.  
  
Aragorn thought briefly of Eowyn. A formidable woman, with valour to spare, she had been eager to fight and make her mark. How bitter it must be to be denied the chance to earn renown. Then his thoughts drifted to his beloved Arwen, and his lips quirked in amusement. Arwen might be a gentle elf maiden most of the time, but she had been trained in swordplay by her father and brothers, even as he had. If she was here, Aragorn had no doubt she would have been right beside him, fiercely protecting what she considered as hers. She would set Theoden straight.  
  
The first arrow flew, and with a final thought of Arwen, Aragorn turned his attention to war.  
  
**************************************************************************** ***************  
  
Theoden stood on the wall of the Hornburg, watching the advancing enemy. He had done all he could to ready his people. Those who were unable to fight were safely in the Glittering Caves. Those who could had been armoured, and stood below him on the Deeping Wall. Now, it was a matter of time.  
  
His Sergeant, Gamling, stood by his side, ready to relay his orders to the troops below. From his viewpoint high on the Keep, Theoden could co- ordinate the defences to the best advantage, and keep the resistance alive as long as possible. Through Gamling, he could direct his soldiers to the weakest points, and watch every part of the Deep for signs of trouble.  
  
Aragorn caught his attention on the Deeping Wall, moving through the elves and offering words of support. Aragorn had insisted on joining the resistance, instead of staying with the King to organise the battle from above. He had felt his presence was necessary in the fight, and Theoden, knowing of Aragorn's reputation as a fearless warrior, had not forced the man's compliance.  
  
He knew that Aragorn did not understand his choice to remain apart from the battle. But Theoden knew the Rohirrim took courage from his position. As long as the Banner of Rohan flew above him, and he was visible on the Keep, his men knew they still had a chance to win. The King would move only if the battle became desperate, and the gate was overrun. Or, in the last desperate act of retreat, he would follow his men into the Deep.  
  
If Aragorn did not identify with Theoden, Theoden could not understand Aragorn, or his choices. What type of man came out of no where to join a battle that could not be won? Why would he choose to ally himself with Rohan - a country to whom he had broken his ties and owed no allegiance? Why would he risk his life for theirs?  
  
Granted, his presence was a welcome one. Theoden remembered the stories that were still told around the fires at night of Thorongil, the Eagle of the Star. It had been a surprise to recognise Aragorn as that legendary warrior. And not only was he himself a well-seasoned soldier, but he brought formidable companions with him. He was sure the elf and dwarf that travelled with Aragorn would prove themselves tonight. And it must be Aragorn's presence that had brought the elven forces from Lord Elrond - it certainly hadn't been Theoden King!  
  
But what would be Aragorn's reward? Injury, possibly death? To die in a foreign land, far from kin and loved ones, among strangers? It was a choice Theoden would never understand.  
  
The first arrow flew, and there was no more time to ponder. 


End file.
